


Physical Pain and Emotional Pleading

by strikeyourcolors



Series: Control(led) Issues [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Angst, Biting, Consensual Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Roughness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: Dick finds an unsettling emotional intimacy is developing with Jason, despite Bruce's disapproval. Jason realizes he cares a little more than he should, but he still takes advantage of the situation. He's still moving forward, moving past it, but some secrets should never have been voiced. Some things just can't be put right.





	Physical Pain and Emotional Pleading

**Author's Note:**

> We're back to this series! After a long wait so I could finish another. If you've never read this series before, this installment will probably make very little sense to you, so go back to the first in the series. Please mind the tags because this one is definitely a little more emotionally heavy, especially in regards to Jason. These boys have some awfully intense pillow talk. 
> 
> Thanks so much to those of you who came back to this! I hope it was worth the wait. We're shooting for 10 installments to the series, for anyone curious.

Bruce hasn't called him back. Under most circumstances, that would be a good thing for Dick and he'd be relieved. After several rather spectacular blowouts between the two of them, Alfred had suggested a three-day rule when one of them was furious at the other. No contact for three days, unless it was urgent. It gave tempers time to settle. It prevented them from saying some things that they would regret.  It's been four days. Dick is starting to get a little worried. 

When he's not worried, though, he's _busy_. He's relieved that the sources of the bigger problems are mostly out of towners. He probably should be like Batman, should pursue them to the bitter end to bring them to justice, but actually he's a little relieved that the ones he hasn't rounded up will become someone else's problem when they move on. It doesn't stop him from trying harder to capture them, but he's having to face his limitations. One man can only do so much and Nightwing doesn't have quite the reputation that Batman does. 

Red Hood's reputation is mixed, Dick finds. He's still feared in the underworld but there are rumblings he's going hero. That he rescued Nightwing. That the Bat is looking at Red Hood to join his flock. When Dick hears that he almost grins. If only they knew. Still, he wonders where these rumors come from. He wonders how Jason would take it if Bruce really did want to invite him to join forces, no strings attached. Kind of like what Dick is trying to do. Kind of like what Dick thinks Bruce will never forgive him from doing. 

Being busy means he doesn't see Jason except in passing. Busy means more exchanged notes and, rarely, more phone calls. After taking a particularly brutal blow to the head, Dick is surprised that his phone rings not long after. "Can you see straight?" Jason asks over the line. 

"Sexuality puns aside," Dick replies. "Yeah. Vision's good." 

"All four corners when you look straight ahead? No detached retina? That looked like a detached retina kind of hit." And wouldn't Jason know all about those? He probably provides any trauma-induced retinal detachment specialist with so much business he should get a kick back. 

"All four corners," Dick confirms and for a moment feels like he's talking to Alfred. "Where are you?"

He sees Jason wave from a rooftop. Jason had seen the fight, but hadn't interfered. It balms Dick's pride but it doesn't stop his head from pounding the rest of patrol and into the next day. He's exhausted, worn thin and ragged. He needs some sleep and some protein that doesn't come from a powder. He's maybe at the worst he's been since he was sick and barely conscious.

Which, of course, is when Bruce strikes. Bruce exploits weaknesses in his enemies and his Robins are no different. Dick thinks, some days, that Tim is going to outsmart both he and Jason when it comes to Bruce. Bruce thinks he has the kid obedient and cowed. Bruce is wrong. Dick hopes Bruce is wrong. It still seems a little unbelievable, all things considered.

"Do we have to do this?" Dick asks and his voice is pretty much purely a whine when he walks into his bedroom to find Bruce standing in the corner like a creepy, Bat-shaped mannequin. "Really? Tonight?" He checks his watch. "This morning?" He had wanted a phone call. Why was he not getting a phone call?

"You contacted for assistance and, afterward, turned your locator and your communicator off," Batman informs him and, yes, they really have to go through this right now, with Dick's muscles shaking from fatigue. 

"I belayed that request," Dick replies. "I hadn't anticipated an escape opportunity coming up and they planned to kill me sooner rather than later. I was erring on the side of caution." And, because he's not completely suicidal enough to argue with Batman. "I'm sorry you wasted your time. I won't call for help again." 

"That's not the outcome I want," Batman argues. He's being surprisingly patient. His voice is still level. Dick wonders if he's practiced this before and taken the suggestion that screaming doesn't actually make his point sink in any more deeply. "The last thing in the feed is the Red Hood, telling you he's going to make you hurt." Batman pauses for emphasis. "What was I supposed to assume, from that encounter?"

Shit. Dick had kind of, totally irrationally, hoped that he had been looking away or that Red Hood's voice wouldn't be recognized. "That Red Hood was going to hurt me," Dick admits. "That's the obvious assumption. I contacted you as soon as I could." As soon as he remembered, he means. 

"Did he hold you captive?" Batman asks. "Engage you in an altercation?"

There had been some engaging, alright. Dick wanders into the bathroom to pop some painkillers for his headache, because he really doesn't trust his poker face at that exact moment. "A small one," Dick says carefully. He doesn't want to lead to any thoughts that Jason is still violent, is still a threat to him or to Tim. "Mostly we talked."

"You talked," Bruce repeats. He doesn't even bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. "About what?"

"Mostly about how stupid I am." Not untrue. No one can lie to Batman and get away with it, but fortunately through the years Bruce has learned a little more about when to call out a lie and when to not. "He's not ready to give up. But he's doing better. Have you checked the murders in Bludhaven? He's not actually responsible for any of them."

Batman goes silent, which could be very good. It could also be very bad. It could also mean he'd left. Dick sticks his head out of the bathroom and finds that Bruce has moved, but he is still present. "The murders might simply have gone unnoticed by the authorities."

"Always a glass half full kind of guy, aren't you?" Dick retorts. He starts to brush his teeth. Nothing is getting between him and his bed, not even his father figure. "I've been watching. There are some definite issues. But no deaths." Just some paralysis and that one guy who doesn't have any fingers. Dick's not going to bring those up right now. 

"And he's been watching you," Batman counters. "Robin suggested-"

Oh fucking Tim. Fucking Tim who thought that one day Bruce and Jason would hug it out. Fucking Tim who might betray his secrets.

"That you might have died far earlier from that strain of the flu had someone not brought you fluids or noticed you were missing," Bruce completes. "Did Red Hood do that?"

"I don't remember most of that week," Dick admits, and that's also not a lie. His words are slightly muffled around the toothpaste in his mouth, so he spits, and retracts his mental curse on Tim Drake. "Maybe. I would notice if I didn't see him around for a few days. Probably he'd notice the same about me." 

Bruce makes the sound that means he's thinking. He peels back the cowl and sits at the foot of the bed, but he doesn't start with the heart-to-heart he usually wants to have when he goes from Batman to a bare face. Dick moves around him, grabbing for boxers and a shirt. Normally he would peel the uniform off and crash under the covers naked but with Bruce here, he probably should resist. The longer Bruce sits, silently, the more worried he's becoming. With good reason, too, when Bruce finally says, "We should talk about Jason."

Those same words he'd heard years ago. A kid rushing back from his adventure in space and being met with a blank stare and five words that were going to change life as they knew it. He heard them when Jason died. He heard them again when Jason was alive. They did a lot of talking about Jason Todd, and very little of it was actually constructive. 

Dick forces himself to shrug, stepping back into the bathroom for privacy but not closing the door. Bruce has seen him naked. Just, in his bedroom, it's a little strange. "Shoot," He says. "But are you going to open a can of worms because I don't think coffee is going to clear my sleep deficit today." 

"I'll make it fast," Bruce says. Probably he sees through Dick's attempts to buy more time to think of what he can say, and what he can't say, and what he should definitely never, ever tell another living soul. "You're on good terms with Jason now?"

"Relatively," Dick answers, stepping out of the Nightwing uniform. "We've had face time, if that's what you mean, and he hasn't tried to kill me in recent memory." _Except with his cock, but I asked for that._ "But there are some things we don't talk about. The past is one of those things. I think...when he's ready, he'll open it up." 

Bruce considers this again. He's trying. Honest to God, Bruce Wayne seems like he's trying not to simply fly apart at what happened. Dick isn't sure if he appreciates this or if it scares him even more. "I want him back in Gotham. Where I can keep an eye on him. It's not a fair burden to put on you."

"It's not a burden," Dick protests, nearly instantly. "It's easier here. He's _better_ here, Bruce. Fewer memories. Fewer associations."

"You're getting attached," Bruce says, like Jason is some kind of lost puppy he's angling to keep. "He can't run from his demons forever, Dick. You don't need to be there for the fall out that happens when they catch up to him." In Bruce's way, Dick knows, he's trying to protect him. He wants to protect Dick and Tim both from whatever shadow fell over Jason. He wants to protect the memory of Jason as that gap-toothed, smiling Robin, even at the expense of the man Jason's become. Dick's the opposite. He wants to erase Robin to time, and get to know Jason as he is now. 

"The problem is that you're not attached," Dick answers softly, shaking his head. He's tired, yes, but now he's just weary bone and soul. It's just sex, with Jason. Intimate sex. Sex where he has to trust him. But he's always known these lines will have to be drawn. Yet he's finding he doesn't want to mark them out. He wants those simple times with Jason. He wants that grudging affection. Dick has always known he loves Jason Todd. He feels, sometimes, that Jason might start loving him back. "In this case? I am my brother's keeper. And I'm staying that way."

The tension is thick enough to cut. Instead, Dick sticks his foot under the covers of his bed and slides it down so he can nudge at Bruce's hip. "Get up and let yourself out. I'm going to sleep."

Bruce gives him the displeased look, but he does stand up. "We need to have an in depth discussion about this." 

Dick nods, adjusting the pillows around him to his liking. "We will," He promises. "Later. But right now? I think you should leave this alone because he's in a better place than he's been." Dick thinks of the pills. He thinks of the way Jason took care of him. He thinks of the confessions he's made and that Jason actually saved his life. Not a good place, definitely not, but a better place. 

If Bruce answers, Dick doesn't hear it. He has a sleep budget to balance.

~*~*~

Jason avoids him for another week, so Dick assumes that Jason knows about the visit Batman paid to him. Jason does do the courtesy of leaving a note, informing him that a newly formed gang is planning to ambush cops 

The information is good. The cops are saved. They even thank him. Dick wants to celebrate and Jason is nowhere to be found. He wonders why he's even looking for Jason, when he's happy. When he doesn't have any pressing need. He finds another note. _B has your apartment bugged_ and a smiley face. Of course. He should have figured that one out on his own. He finds the bugs, and a camera. He takes it all down and wonders how Jason knew, or if it was a lucky guess. 

Jason reappears two nights later, so he must have cleared the apartment enough to summon him back. Dick has flopped in bed after a particularly brutal patrol and, upon seeing Jason crawling in his window, just groans pitifully at him. “You're pathetic,” Jason says with what seems like fondness and Dick can't even disagree with him. He is pathetic. He fought an all-female mafia and they wiped the floor with him. “You see a pretty face that isn't your own and you think the owner is harmless.” 

“Lies,” Dick murmurs, turning over slowly to look at Jason. He's suddenly too aware that he's naked in bed. “I see your pretty face and I think you're anything but harmless.” 

Jason's eyes widen a fraction; Dick has surprised him. Dick watches him war with protesting or ignoring or spitting something back and Dick grins when Jason's face colors just slightly. “I'm not pretty,” He mutters back, the words nearly unintelligible. “I'm not made for fucking like you are. With your pretty face. Wanting to fuck your pretty face.” 

Dick tries not to laugh and fails, giving Jason a roguish grin. “You're losing your touch, Jay. That insult didn't even make sense.” 

“Shut up,” Jason counters eloquently. “Did you get all the bat toys out of here? Daddy checking up on you?”

“I don't think you'd be here if there were any left,” Dick replies, testing the waters. He assumed Jason had some kind of idea how many and where because he'd tapped into them. He looked forward to the day when he would simply be able to ask Jason outright. 

Jason cuts off that line of thought, the reasonable line, by kissing him. At first Jason had thought just to shut him up, but he's surprised that he likes it. He likes kissing Dick. There's a nasty, bitter heat in his chest at the revelation that he'd find pleasure in something so gentle. So nice. Something lovers do. You can definitely fuck without kissing. 

But Dick is damn good at it. His tongue slides between Jason's lips and he tips his face eagerly into it, fingers moving up to slide through Jason's hair. Dick's kiss is a lot like his personality. Playful and coaxing, making Jason lower his guard enough for Dick to map out every inch of him. He's moaning into the kiss before he even realizes it. 

Dick hears the slide of Jason's belt out of his pants. It's a little sudden, but Dick knows that he's already naked and there's not exactly anything else to make him strip out of. He wiggles back against Jason suggestively, turning his face for another kiss. 

"Greedy," Jason teases him. Dick can only hum an agreement. He's surprised at Jason taking his hands, touching his fingers. At least, he is until he feels the curl of leather wrap around his wrists like a snake. Jason pulls it taut and scrapes his teeth against Dick's bicep as he guides his hands above him to grip the headboard of his bed. "Is this sturdy?"

Dick can feel the bed move as Jason gives one of the gaps in his bed frame a vicious tug. There are squares cut out of his headboard. Dick never thought must about those either because when he threw a nice mattress into the space suddenly the thing holding it wasn't that important. Dick can't really answer the question, but judging by the feral grin on Jason's face, he's found it sturdy enough. He loops the belt through the wood and metal frame, so Dick has maybe an inch of give. He could get out of it. Probably within five minutes if he was really trying. But that's not the point of this. 

"You're not his," Jason says soulfully and Dick would hug him if his hands weren't tied. "You're mine." It sets the tone for the night. It's enough that Jason grinds against him and Dick can feel the very real, very solid erection even through fabric of his covers and Jason's pants. 

"I can't belong to myself?" Dick asks, trying to turn his head to look at Jason. But Dick, circus performer though he is, has always liked the idea of belonging. Belonging somewhere. To someone. To some higher purpose. 

"I think you've proven you can't be trusted with yourself," Jason replies. His ghosts teeth over Dick's shoulder blade, down to the stab wound in his back, and it's like someone set a flame against his open wound. Dick yelps, twists against the belt as Jason moves on. He hasn't actually removed the bandage over it, but the feeling is enough that even Dick's teeth ache with the anticipation of more pain. None comes. Jason's mouth is soft as it wanders down his back, flipping the covers completely off him and off the bed as he goes. Dick shivers at the exposure to cooler air. "You need to be handled," Jason murmurs against him, licking a line against the small of his back. "You need to be owned." 

Rational Dick would protest at that. Dick with half an erection who hasn't been touched in weeks only moans, mouth gone suddenly dry at all the images that conjures up. Christ, he wants Jason to own him. To devour him. "Do it," Dick whispers. It's the first time he's approached the situation like this. All the times have been submission, but this? This is asking. "I want you to hurt me." 

Jason's breath catches. His fingers curl into the flesh of Dick's thighs until the skin goes red. It proves his point that Dick can't be trusted to know what's good for him. It goes against every instinct to simply give in to a predator, to beg it to hurt you, and here Dick is with his impossibly blue eyes and perfect, pretty face, asking for it. Asking to be eaten alive. Asking for _Jason_. It's something he wanted. Something he thought of, when Dick would lie stunned and bleeding beneath him. Something he never thought he would have. Especially not with Nightwing naked and safe in his bed. 

Jason bites. It's into the meat of Dick's hip, not breaking the flesh but leaving a little indentation of his teeth that will probably bruise. And Dick moans. It hurts, but it hurts in a way that makes him _writhe_. That makes him want more of what Jason can offer. His fingers slide low on Dick's belly but he drags them up. Jason doesn't have enough fingernail to scratch, at least not enough to do damage, but the touch makes a whine catch in Dick's throat anyway at the implication. That Jason will leave marks all over him. 

"We haven't played with these," Jason says absently, thumb brushing against one of Dick's nipples. They are already stiff thanks to the chill of the air. It's not even an erogenous zone Dick would have pinpointed. At least, not until Jason pinches the sensitive skin there, rolling the flesh between his thumb and forefinger until Dick yelps. It doesn't feel good, not exactly, but it burns and aches and makes the rest of him even more sensitive. Jason just laughs at his reaction, a low chuckle as he places another bite against Dick's spine. "You've left me with quite a problem," He scolds. "You want to be hurt and I have nothing to hurt you with." 

Dick huffs out a shaky breath as he feels Jason's tongue against him. Of course he asks Jason to hurt him. He craves that pain. And then Jason denies him. Another little cruelty. “I know,” Jason whispers to him. “I'll just have to make use of how you already got yourself hurt.” And Dick had forgotten, until that moment, about how much that fight hadn't gone his way. 

He'd been literally stabbed in the back by what he thought had been one of the victims. The suit had protected him from the knife going too deep, but it probably deserved stitches. He couldn't stitch his own back closed, so he'd decided a bandage would have to be good enough. He can almost feel Jason's disapproval as he moves, as he strips off his shirt and then his pants. Dick almost dislocates his shoulders trying to look, trying to admire, because he can never get enough of Jason's form.

"You're hurt," Jason reminds him, fingers running down Dick's spine in a way that makes him shiver. “So turn back around.” He ghosts over the stab wound again and Dick obediently turns, even as it goes against everything in him to do so. That _hurts_ as Jason had shown him. 

Jason looks Dick over. Little hurts, little things that would be fixed in a week. Proof that Dick could survive, and Jason doesn't know why he has doubts. Dick is a dumb ass, no question there, but Dick is _capable_.Case in point, Dick doesn't pull away from him. Dick makes sounds of complaint and he wiggles a bit, but he doesn't try to escape Jason's touch as Jason's fingers map out all his weaknesses, hunts them out with amazing accuracy. 

“Slid on the floor without realizing there were metal shavings?” Jason asks as he contacts the raw flesh of Dick's side. Dick hisses. Jason already has to know the answer. There's no metal left in the scraped up flesh, but abrasions are some of the worst wounds in Dick's opinion. They hurt. They pull at skin unexpectedly. There's no good way to keep them clean or protected. And Jason is running calloused fingertips all over torn skin. “Stupid move, Dickie. Rookie mistake.” 

Dick knows. God, he knows. He'd thought as much to himself when he was trying to get off the floor without letting anyone know how much it had hurt. But Jason's words pair with the pain, punish him for his mistake, and his cock thickens, plumps to full hardness. It's noticed. Of course it's noticed as Jason laughs and kisses his shoulder. “You need to be scolded for your mistake, is that it? You need your flaws to be pointed out so you can work on them?” He doesn't make the skin bleed again, but Dick is certainly going to need a layer of salve over it when he's done. 

“What about here?” Jason continues, pressing fingers into a nasty-looking bruise above Dick's tailbone. Dick actually _squeals_ and Jason has to pause, has to fist his own prick a few times just to take the edge off. His grin is savage in the dim light of the bedroom. “Fell right on your ass, didn't you? Not so graceful that time. I'm surprised you didn't turn your ankle.” Except Dick had. The boots had saved him from anything except a momentary jolt of pain. It was kind of humiliating how off his game he had been. Jason rubs the skin around the bruise, which he's sure is going to swell and turn all kinds of fun colors within a few days. It hurts. It hurts a spectacular amount and that only makes Dick even harder, even more desperate for Jason to touch him again. 

“You're flexible, right?” Jason asks. He grips Dick's leg by the knee, starting to stretch it up toward his shoulder and normally it would be no trouble. Normally Dick could get the limb behind his head. But normally he hadn't torn a muscle in his thigh with a poorly aimed kick. Jason knows. _How does Jason know?_ Jason's fingers dig into the muscle and it spasms. Twitches. Dick grits his teeth together and makes a near agonized noise and Jason? Jason fucking smirks at him and it just makes Dick harder, even as he pulls at the headboard to try to slap Jason's hand away. 

"You've fucked up a lot lately," Jason purrs to him, sweet and convincing like the best of his demons as he lowers his still seizing leg. "How long is it going to be before you make the ultimate fuck up?" It's a question Dick asks himself. It's something that keeps him awake when he's not so bone tired his body is on the verge of shut down. Dick swears he used to be good. Used to be at least passable as Nightwing. Sure he got his fair share of injuries and Bruce has had to pull his ass out of the fire a couple of times but...

But has he ever been good? Is this really a recent development? He's saved from soul-searching when Jason's fingers slide down, press just behind his balls, and the sudden bright burst of pleasure has him helplessly bucking his hips as his cock dribbles out more precome and Dick tries to twist enough to rub himself against the bed. This hot, incriminating pleasure in his belly is what drove him to jump Jason's boot while he sucked him off. That idea only makes him hotter. 

"Maybe you need to be taken out of play. Maybe you need a break." Jason's breath is hot against his ear. Dick tugs at the bindings on his wrist, wanting to touch him. Wanting to touch himself. Anything to get rid of this burning, building pressure that Jason's fingers bring to life. His shoulder hurts, throbs beneath the bandage where Jason's teeth have disturbed it. The muscle in his thigh is still twitching, still aching where Jason has probed the strain, has made it flare back to pain. 

He'd asked Jason to hurt him. He shouldn't be surprised after all this time that Jason is so good at it. "No," Dick protests, out of breath. "I don't need to break." He arches, back at a nearly unnatural angle as Jason grips his cock. The pleasure is so exquisite it's almost pain at this point. "You always get up again. That's what we do." He sounds like he's being tortured. He _feels_ like he's being tortured. Jason just holds his cock in his calloused, hot palm. Every rock of Dick's hips is instantly stilled and Dick whines again. " _Do_ something." 

Jason laughs. Dick knows by now it's not the good, amused kind of laugh. "Getting to be a bossy bitch, aren't you?" He squeezes. Dick isn't sure if he loves any sensation or if he hates the spark of pain. He can feel his erection twitching in Jason's hold, can feel his balls drawing up tight, can feel the sensation ebb again with a pinching feeling somewhere inside him. He refuses to believe that Jason calling him a bitch can be that hot. That him realizing this change in Jason is making him enjoy it even more. 

It's not one event that sets it off. It's a thousand little touches as Jason's free hand goes over his back. The prod of the stab wound. A twist where his shoulder blade is bruised. A fingertip probing an old burn that still has the prickling sensation of nerves knitting back together. Jason handles him like he owns him. Like he judges him. That look on Jason's face...

Like _Dick_ should have been the one to _die_. 

"Fuck," Jason whispers. "Fuck." He lets go completely and Dick shudders at the loss. He tugs his hand again against the belt, but he can't focus on how to slip the leather around his wrists. He can't reach Jason physically as the younger man nearly falls off the bed. 

"Jason," Dick calls out. He's desperate and hard and in pain and he has to go with the first idea he has to calm him down. "Jason! You can't leave me here!" Of course he could. Dick wouldn't be that worse for wear after waiting for his erection to subside and freeing himself. But Dick can't let Jason go. Not with that almost terrified look on his face. 

Jason sits back down behind him. Dick cranes his head to see his face and, realizing Jason has it covered, he scoots as far against his body as he can. Dick can't use his arms so he simply curls to touch him as much as possible. Jason's warring with himself about keeping him tied, and Dick can kind of respect that. You don't technically want to release someone you're afraid might lash out of you. It's not like he can protect Jason from himself. The story of his life, really. "Jay," He coaxes softly. "Jay, everything is okay. Can I have a kiss?"

It's probably a little stupid as far as calming someone having a mental breakdown of some type, but it's what he's got. Something familiar. A redirect back to the activity before neurons misfired in his head. He can't tell Jason to focus on the mission or focus on some item in the room. Dick is what's here, and Dick is going to try to talk him down. There's a ring of green bright in Jason's eyes, but he still looks at him like he's a little crazy. Tied up, naked, bleeding and bruised and with a really firm erection, Dick thinks they passed the little stage a long time ago. 

But Jason kisses him. His lips are dry. It's chaste and harsh as Jason remembers how to temper his strength. Dick coaxes it softer, coaxes his tongue against Jason's mouth, silently hopes that they can get control of the situation again. He knows when the tension bleeds out of Jason's body. When Jason cups his face and kisses him back, takes control of the kiss once again. Back to normal, back like nothing happened. The change is dizzying. Dick's not sure what to do. If he should insist that Jason untie him now. If he should slip the belt and try to hold Jason. But Jason's fingers tease over his, like he's reassuring himself that Dick is still right where he left him. "You're still hard," Jason comments when he pulls back. It's like he's teasing, but there's a certain element of strain to his voice. 

Dick snorts. "Yeah...that'll go away when my brain catches up." But his body is just too primed, too peaked, too convinced this is another game. But as Jason settles spooning his back, he wiggles a little bit. "So are you, though." 

Jason makes a sound of agreement, pressing his face against Dick's neck and biting over his pulse point in a way that never fails to get Dick docile and moaning underneath him. Exploitation at its finest. "I think we should do something about it then, don't you?"

God, Dick wants to. Wants Jason. Wants to reach that frantic peak he'd been on the edge of tumbling down from. "No," He protests and hates himself a little for the word. "We can't just ignore what happened. We should-" 

"What?" Jason counters, bites a little harder. His hand is back on Dick's cock, working him back to full hardness and it doesn't take much. "We should hug it out? I'm fine now, and I want to finish. You want to give me what I want, don't you?"

Dick does. He shuts his eyes and tries to find his voice to argue that this isn't what's best for Jason but then Jason is pressing against him. He slides his cock against the cheeks of his ass and his lips fasten to suck a bruise onto the skin between his neck and his shoulder and Dick is entirely lost. He follows Jason's touches like a doll, rolling onto his front as well as he can with his arms bound, spreading his knees to move under them. It leaves him helpless, leaves him with his ass lewdly in the air and his arms stretched in front of him. Jason's fingers find the dip of his waist, the curve of his hipbones, urging him up without asking. Dick obeys, and it's only a second before he feels Jason again with his dick against the curve of his ass and his hand wrapped around Dick's erection. He can't help himself as he rolls his hips back against Jason, the new space between himself and the bed leaving his erection heavy and free and almost painful all over again. 

"You going to fuck yourself on me?" Jason asks, pleased. Dick's ass is incredible. The play of muscle has Jason gripping him tightly, mindful this time of the pulled thigh muscle. Dick is shameless, grinding himself liberally back on the ridge of Jason's prick and Jason wants to reward him. His eyes are fastened on Dick's back, on all the hurts he made hurt worse, on the few bruises he's left with his teeth. But, sneaking into his field of vision, is Dick's face. He's caught his lower lip between his teeth and is moaning, desperate. It's good like this. It's what Jason wants, what he craves, what draws him back at every turn. When he stops jerking him off, Dick protests, but even that turns into another pleased sound as Jason grips him, drags his hips back against him. He presses his face to the back of Dick's neck and he's content like this, with lips against his skin, feeling Dick's powerful body move sinuously beneath him. It's as close as he ever gets to anyone. He never imagined it would be like this with Nightwing.

He feels it coming. Heat spreading from inside him, wrapping around both of them. He knows by the desperate bucks of Dick's hips that he's close, that Jason made him that way once again. No matter Dick's misgivings, he's always going to come back to Jason, and that's something to be marveled at. The thought occurs to him with a sudden, vicious clarity. _I'm gonna come right on his back._ and it does things to him. It's claiming. Ownership. Whatever marks anyone leaves on Dick, Jason can do worse. Whatever wounds they leave, they're skin deep and superficial. He cuts Dick to his soul. 

It's a fucked up thing to orgasm to. It doesn't make it any less intense as searing pleasure overtakes him along with the sound of his own wanton moan. He spills against Dick's ass, over his back, ribbons of white painting pale and bruising skin. He pulls Dick against him with enough force that it has to hurt, grinding in the mess, dropping Dick onto his side against him and sparing only a thought for the belt that's probably ruined and the headboard that's about to be. 

Dick _whines_. He pumps desperately toward the bed, thinking he's never needed to come this badly in his fucking life. Not with a cockring. Not the hundreds of times he's been interrupted in the middle of things. Now. He needs it now. "Jason," He begs, he feels tears starting in the corners of his eyes. He needs to come more than he needs to breathe. More than he needs anything. "Jason, please. Fuck, Jason." 

It's his name, over and over, as Dick babbles. Jason slides away and Dick damn nearly dislocates his arms trying to follow him. "I've got you, Dickie. I won't leave you wanting, babe." Whatever endearment he can come up with. He needs to make this up to Dick because, honestly, he'd been about to do just that. 

He awkwardly flips himself over to Dick's front and Dick is _crying_. It is simultaneously the hottest thing and the most pathetic thing Jason has ever seen. "Please," Dick whimpers. "I need you."

It gives him the last push he needs and Jason slides down. He hasn't done this in longer than he wants to think about. Face to face with Dick's erection, he almost backs away. A hand is just as good, isn't it? But he thinks of Dick reaching out to him. Dick wanting only what was best, only to please Jason. He can do this. It's going to be quick. 

Dick sobs as Jason takes his throbbing, aching cock into his mouth. He's momentarily stunned by how warm it is inside Jason's mouth, how wet, and the fact that Jason is doing this to him and oh fucking shit he's not going to be able to enjoy it for very long. Jason reaches to cup his balls and Dick knows it's to keep a hold on him, to prevent him from bucking into Jason's mouth like he desperately wants to. "Shit! Gonna come," He pants, trying to hold back, ashamed at himself because Jason's mouth has been on him maybe ten seconds. 

His mouth pulls off, only slightly, and Dick feels the edge of teeth. He's coming into against Jason's tongue, trying to force his eyes to stay open, trying to memorize the way Jason looks with his cock stuffed in his mouth because this is probably never going to happen again. It makes it better, makes it more intense, and Dick comes for what feels like a painfully long time.

He's a mess. Jason let's Dick's cock slip out of his mouth and then wipes at his own chin. It's sticky with come and saliva and Jason really should be grossed out but he's too distracted by Dick. He's beautiful. So beautiful in the moment, flushed and panting and dazed. It makes Jason's heart ache just a little bit as he gazes at the perfection he'd always striven toward and never reached. He pulls away before he can say something stupid, rolls to the side of the bed where he knows Dick keeps a tissue box and spits out semen into one, using another to clean his face. Practicalities need to be dealt with first. He undoes the belt next, rubbing feeling back into Dick's fingers since they've gone cold. There's no discoloration so at least he didn't completely botch that bondage job. 

Dick is looking at him with an almost stupid, lovesick expression. Jason doesn't know how to cope with that, either. "You need to work on your 'o' face," He tells Dick. "The boys won't keep coming around if word gets out that you're weird when you get off." 

"I think the boys will keep coming around _because_ I'm weird when I get off," Dick counters lazily, rolling his wrists so the joints pop. "You better not have come in my stab wound, by the way." He stays on his side and grins when Jason's gaze shoots instantly to his back. Jason grabs another tissue to clean that up, wishing for a moment he believed in taking lewd pictures with his cell phone. Dick's acting high in the way he gets after he's been dealt some pain, and leaving him feels too cruel. Jason sighs in dismay at the disorganized chaos of Dick's room and his sudden want to get up and tidy the place. "Don't," Dick says lazily, looking at him like he can read his thoughts. "Don't go. Just...hold me a while? You don't have to stay after that." He looks embarrassed to be asking. Jason, acutely, knows the feeling. 

So Jason stays. He flops onto his back and lets Dick curl up against him, on the side without the road-rash. It's quiet for several minutes as things settle and doubts set in. "I bet you were the kind of kid who punched your classmates to knock their baby teeth loose," Dick notes, forgetting for a moment almost everything he knows about Jason. 

"Oh I punched a lot of people and they managed to lose some teeth," Jason agrees, caught a little off guard. He thought Dick had fallen asleep. “I just maybe didn't do it for that reason." He keeps Dick on his side, hand tracing the subtle curve from his rib cage down to his waist. "It was so weird when I lost a tooth naturally at the manor. That tooth fairy bullshit when I was almost in high school?" Jason laughs. The sound is warm and rich and Dick wraps it around him like a blanket. "I kept the quarters, though." 

"It was only one when I was still losing teeth. I felt ripped off when all my baby teeth were gone and I didn't get money for anything knocked out by a bad guy. Just a trip to the dentist and some awkward questions." He sighs, something sticking in his mind. "You still had baby teeth in high school?"

Jason nods. He presses his face against the top of Dick's head. "I still had baby teeth when I _died_." 

It's something that Dick wishes Jason never told him, and he feels guilty for wishing it, because he's sure Jason needs to say it. To get it out. Still, there's something perverse and horrifying in knowing the second Robin had been beaten to death and buried with baby teeth still in his mouth. 

“I think,” Jason says softly. “I'm ready to talk to someone. But only Alfred. And I don't want anyone else in that family to know. So keep your mouth shut.” 

It's...a surprise, certainly. Dick doesn't know what to say at first. It's so fragile and he doesn't want to risk fucking this completely to pieces. “I will,” He says at last. “Do you need the number?”

“No.” Of course he wouldn't. It's not like the land line phone at Wayne Manor has changed. Probably since the phone's installation. 

“I'm glad,” Dick tells him hesitantly. “Alfred will be so happy to hear from you.” 

Jason makes a noncommittal noise. It's enough. He leaves in another half hour and Dick feels oddly elated. Exhausted, in pain, but happy. He decides to treat himself to some cereal before he actually turns in for the night. 

He has a spoon halfway to his mouth when his phone rings. Bruce. His eyes narrow, but he answers. He doesn't want to raise concerns any more. He wants to slide by and maybe get a little peace for once in his life. “It's a little late,” He says. 

“Tell me what you talked about tonight,” Bruce replies.

**Author's Note:**

> Something you want to see in later installments? In something else entirely? Particular kinks? Particular endings? Feel free to add it here or [here](https://strikeyourcolors.tumblr.com/ask)! Hopefully I can get back into the swing of new things and I always love the ideas people offer out to me! Ideas, beta-reading offerings, co-writing offerings, whatever. I love hearing from you.


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